Tonight
by Fire.Rose.Black
Summary: Pansy cut her hair. Hermione wants to know why. PansyxHermione Oneshot?


I don't know where this came from, exactly, and it makes no sense, so I'm sorry about that! –sighs- Anyway it's Pansy/Hermione. I own nothing.

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**Hermione's POV**

Dark lashes fluttered open to reveal darker eyes. Our eyes met and bored into my own, making me suck in a breath. A detached part of my mind tells me that there is no need for me to gasp at this sight, it's so normal. Two prefects running into one another in the prefect's bathroom was a normal enough occurrence. Hardly a cause for alarm.

But it was, at least when chaotic, dark hair was exploding out of silver hair grips, thick hanks of hair, chopped off by the deadly, shining knife clutched in the deadly, manicured hand, decorated the room. It was cause for alarm when those eyes- _dark, dark eyes, almost black, really_- met my own lighter brown equivalents and my breathing quickened at the sight of a silver and green tie flung to the ground. Discarded, with the usually crisp white shirt rumpled and pulled out of haphazard grey pleats, first few buttons undone, exposing a pale, defined collarbone. A collarbone that heaved in rhythm with ragged breathing, drawing attention to a twinkling emerald bauble on a silver chain.

"Why…" I licked my lips and swallowed, my mouth had gone dry somehow. "Why did you do it?" I gestured at the many bunches of chocolate locks that lay scattered around the kneeling figure.

"Why not? Why do you care?" Hostile tones with a ragged edge. An edge of what? Of fear? The great Slytherin, afraid? Never! Anger was there, but the princess of snakes never hid her anger, channeling it into a deadly weapon and wielding her tongue better than any wand. Could it be sadness, tears chocked back behind aggressive words? But who would dare slight **her**? No, I knew that sound, had heard it in my friend's voices, in my own voice. Desperation. A mixture of all of the above, with added hysteria, a pinch of fatigue, stir widdershins.

"Because," I said, and halted. How could I explain _why_ it struck her as tragic that such _luxurious beautiful elegant stunning exquisite spell-binding_ nice hair was being mutilated? How could I put into words, even with my large vocabulary, how I had often stared, Slytherin-green with envy, at the swish of coffee-colored silk? Worn as a crown and elegantly coiffed, meekly obeying the loops of intricate patterns as ornate as a bloodline. A contrast to my own disobedient tresses that laughingly evaded my every attempt to style their snarls.

"Nevermind." Snappish, impatient, and defensive. "It's my business, alright? I wanted a change. Go away, filth!" But the insults lacked infective and I brushed them aside. As if in a dream I moved forward , reaching out my hand, calloused from adventures, and caught the pointy little chin, staring searchingly down into the upturned face.

"What are you afraid of?" I asked, blinking at my own audacity. I had not meant to ask that, surely not. I firmed my hold when she pulled away, slapping at my wrist.

"I'm not afraid of anything! I wanted a change, alright? Now take your stupid face away from me before I am sick!" Ah yes, the note of hysteria had grown much worse, the tone rising in octaves. Pushing me away, pressing me away, but only stiffening my resolve. I narrowed my eyes.

"Afraid of nothing? Only fools are afraid of nothing! Tell me, do you not even hold a little, tiny iota of fear for your Dark Lord?" Eyes widened and a flinch came, as if I had slapped that pretty, pale cheek.

"He's not _my_ Dark Lord!" The voice was harsh, ragged, defiant and truly angry now, though it didn't seem directed at me. "He is not and he will never be!"

"Oh really?" I heard the cynicism in my own voice. "And cutting off your own hair will change your side?"

"I told you, I just wanted a change! Fuck off! I can do what I want! Nobody, _nobody_ controls me!" Ink-black eyes swim behind little tears. Did I really cause those tears? No, just memories. "You complain about people being prejudiced about you because of your blood but I have to deal with it too without whining about it! Did you ever even ask me what side I was on? No! You all just look at me and see a pureblood and assume that my life ambition is to go bow and spread my legs for some powered up snake-man who thinks he's invincible! You make me sick!"

I blinked and let go, staring at the other girl. I noticed that despite having manicured hands, elegant hair and unblemished complexion, the tear tracks left blotchy pink stains on her _creamy dewy skim milk ivory alabaster_ pale skin.

"Don't cry." I said. _Don't cry, it frightens me. To see one like you, always so untouchable, above anything I could ever say or do, to see you break down and cry, it scares me to the fiber of my being. This war has flipped everything around, messed everything up, and I always thought you were above it but I was wrong. Please don't go to pieces on me, please, with your satin hair and your pale skin and your pointy chin and your cute little pug nose. Please give me something to believe in. _But all I said, and repeated, was, "Please don't cry."

"Why do you care?' The same question, I still had no answers. I knelt down to put my face on level with the tear-stained cheeks and reached forward slowly, as if in front of a wild animal. I pulled the knife out of unresisting hands.

"Why did you cut your hair?" I asked, voice soft. "And don't tell me you felt like a change. Nobody feels like a change nowadays, unless it's a change back in time..."

"To the way things used to be." The polished voice, defeated sounding, finished my sentence for me. _You complete me._ "I…I don't know why I cut my hair. I just…" The words weren't coming easy. I felt as if I was seeing a side of the Slytherin princess that nobody had ever seen before. It made me feel a bit perverted, actually. "Everyone expects me to be so…a pureblood. An _aristocrat_." Sarcasm dripped like honey. "I have to be perfect, neat and tidy. My clothes, my face, my hair, everything has to be just so. And, and…I'm sick of it."

"So you cut your hair." I stated this, trying to draw the discussion- _a discussion with a Slytherin, who'd have though it_- back to the original topic.

"Stupid, I know. But it's not like I'm a Ravenclaw, anyway." Bitter resentment and ironic laughter.

"No. You're a Slytherin." Eyes met again and I sighed slightly, looking down, not willing to meet that searching black gaze, that asked questions that had no easy answers.

"So? You're a Gryffindor. Who cares? Seven years of our lives, then it's over. You can't judge people by their houses forever." A pause, then commandingly. "Don't look away from me!" I raised my eyes again.

"Can't judge people by their house, eh? Just their blood, or wealth?' A pretty pink flush appeared on pale cheeks and white teeth gently tug on a full pink lip. I stared at this gesture, surprised by my _hunger yearning burning desire _interest in it.

"Well, maybe not. But at least those things are consistent all over. Only Hogwarts students judge by Hogwarts houses." Under breath, hidden away. "Merlin's beard, you're slow for a know-it-all."

"Slow? Hmph. Not bloody likely." I could't help being competitive. It wass in my nature. "But anyway, in Hogwarts they matter more than anything."

"Do they? Even with this little war, Hogwarts rivalries are still your biggest worry?" I had gotten so close, and now, now I was being provoked, pushed away. I wouldn't have it.

"No. The war changes everything." _Even you. Untouchable._ "It's too bad you cut your hair though. It was…pretty." I reached out a tentative hand to smooth through the now short, chopped off locks, feeling their bristling tufts. A flinch of surprise, but still no resistance.

"Pretty is corruptible. I like my hair now." As I looked at the fierce, dangerously beautiful figure, I couldn't help but think that this unrefined hairstyle does fit its owner, in an odd way.

"I do, too." I agreed softly, so softly that the head tips closer to hear, and hot breath was on my ear, making me feel warm and cold at the same time. I knew I was blushing and I couldn't help it, dammit.

"You do? I doubt my family will though. My friends will be mad, I suppose. It's really quite unheard of." Our two bodies were still so close, the words and the breath that made them sent shivers down my spine and I seemed to remember being in control earlier in this discussion but I was never able to remain that way with the queen of _seduction_ sarcasm.

"There must be a lot of things you can't do." I said, trying to put room between them by inching back on her heels. An arching eyebrow answered my question before the words are spoken.

"I suppose so. I'm not even allowed to be here, talking to someone like you. But then, I doubt your friends would take so kindly to you talking to me." A challenge. Always playing little games, making my head spin.

"No, no they would not like this." Secretly I might have had some doubts, though, sometimes I wondered about my little leader and his blonde counterpart. I wouldn't say that though. Best to just agree and get out of here before I was sucked too far in by shining dark eyes and too much pale skin and couldn't get out. I made as if to stand, but a thin hand flew to my wrist and yanked me down, unbalancing me so that I sprawled on the floor with an undignified "oh!" of surprise as I hurriedly pushed myself back up to be level with my attacker.

"Leaving so soon? Afraid of breaking a rule or two?" And in those black eyes and in that sweet voice I heard a touch of desperation. _You don't want to be left alone do you? Not alone to face the trouble you'll be in tomorrow with your shorn head and wild eyes._ I knew I had to handle this delicately, I didn't want to hurt this individual- _And why should I care? Just another damn pureblood._ I reached out and gently cupped her cheek, letting my thumb slide along the strong jawbone.

"I'm not going anywhere." I promised softly. Now there was definitely fright in the dark gaze that was devouring my lighter one. "Talk to me. Why don't you want to join You-Know-Who, anyway? Your parents have, from what I hear."

"I'm not like them. I'm not like that. I don't like to kill people, or even hurt them really." The words were so soft, so secret, I almost gasped at the powerful feeling I got from hearing them.

"Oh? And what are you like, really, truly, inside of you?" I asked, still diagramming the planes of the face in front of me.

"I…I…I like Ancient Runes, and anything with history really. I like decoding it. I like to take care of my friends, mother them I guess. I...I…I like _this_." And before I could ask what _this _was there was a mouth on my own and a probing against my lips and two black, black eyes boring into me, so solemn and sad and scared and how could I say no? I closed my eyes and slid my own tongue to meet the hers, feeling the urgency and desperation as the kiss was deepened, circling my hand around her back to pull us closer still.

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**Normal POV**

Hermione Granger ran a hand through her frazzled hair, slightly rueful. She hadn't had time to both shower and fix it properly and couldn't go to class smelling of sex so puffy hair it was. Ron and Harry were looking oddly at her, she knew she was acting strangely, but couldn't stop.

She glanced over toward Slytherin table and watched as a scrappily beautiful girl, looking like danger in a woman's form, ate her lunch with a blonde boy, thwo big brutes, and a boy who was dark in both hair and skin. The girl didn't seem to have a care in the world.

Suddenly Pansy glanced up, meeting Hermione's eyes. She smirked, glanced around, and then flashed a true, sweet smile, and mouthed one word.

_Tonight._

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Sorry if that made no sense, xP. It wasn't really meant to, I suppose. I was thinking of making this into a mini series, with Pansy's POV, and maybe Draco/Harry POVs and perhaps even Blaise/Ron. I dunno. Just about how, like, all of the little golden trio finds themselves drawn to their equals and opposites in the Slytherin spectrum. Or I could leave it at this. Leave your thoughts, m'dears!

-Rose


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